Rants and Ramblings: random commentary about culture, media, politics, technology and whatnot.

rush rush rush. stop cold.

It took me about 16 hours to get from DC to Tucson.

Left work at five to five, hoping to beat the traffic. Fidgeted madly in my seat and muttered expletives as my car plodded slowly through the merge lanes onto I-495 toward home. Breathed a sigh of relief and floored the accelerator once I eased myself into the almost-empty left lane. Started cursing anew when traffic was inexplicably backed up on northbound I-395.

Finally made it home in surprisingly record time: 35 minutes. Not enough time to catch the Metro, so I called a cab as I sprinted upstairs. Following a ‘to do’ list I’d scrawled on my hand with a Sharpie, I changed shoes, collected luggage and clunked downstairs to wait on the sidewalk. Remembered that I needed my dressy necklace just as the cab drove up; tossed my luggage into the back seat and raced back upstairs to retrieve the jewelry.

Advised the driver on the speediest way to get into town — a straight shot on GW Parkway, rather than stop-and-go lights Route 1. Took a deep breath and relaxed … until we hit stand-still traffic crossing the 14th Street Bridge. Blood pressure rose steadily as we crept toward Union Station. Arrived ten minutes before the MARC train to BWI’s scheduled departure. As I bought tickets, the loudspeaker announced that my train was running late.

Met up with Rob. Boarded the train. Finally relaxed.

Blood pressure crept up again at the America West check-in counter at BWI. Three of the six check-in kiosks were unoccupied, but the clueless travelers in line in front of me stubbornly refused to step up of their own volition, waiting instead to be beckoned by a desk attendant. After 15 minutes, a clerk finally explained how the line was supposed to work. We were still held up in line behind a woman who, it turned out, was in the wrong line, wanting to see an attendant about flying standby rather than checking in her bags. Eyes rolled. (And, in my mind’s eye, heads rolled, too.)

Made it to check-in. Passed through security with no incident. Went in search for food for dinner. Taco Bell Express was limited to nachos and tacos. Beef only. No cheese. Burger King was outside the security checkpoint. The airport restaurant listing was out of date. Settled for heat lamp-dehydrated grilled chicken at Roy Rogers, my second choice after learning they were out of chicken tenders.

Turbulent ride to Las Vegas passed without incident. Really nifty nighttime view of the Strip flying into McCarran.

Nifty feeling snapped by the news that my flight to Tucson was cancelled. Stuck in Vegas overnight. Not pleased. Ticket agent-in-training was less than impressive. Her supervisor used the incident as a teaching/learning opportunity for the three trainees on duty. We could be rebooked on a flight leaving for Phoenix in half an hour, but the airline wouldn’t pay for transportation to Tucson. Accepted the rebook on the 6:40 a.m. flight to Phoenix (connecting to Tucson) and a night’s stay at the Doubletree. Scowled at the America West discount tickets the clerk offered as appeasement.

Took the shuttle to the hotel. Stood in line behind other displaced passengers at check-in. In the absence of my luggage and toiletry kit, got a small overnight kit of sorts from the front desk manager. None of Doubletree’s famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to be found. Went up to the hotel room for four hours’ sleep. Wake-up call at 5 a.m., followed by the 5:30 shuttle to the airport.

Groggily swiped for boarding passes at the check-in kiosk. No baggage to check this time. Grumbled about how, at this early hour, the breakfast meal voucher was worthless.

Napped on the plane to Phoenix. Struggled to stay awake during the pointless “we have no new information but we want to remind you to be freaked out” Homeland Security press conference aired live in the terminal via CNN Airport Network. Wondered why America West hadn’t just scheduled us on a direct flight to Tucson.

Another flight. Finally arrived in Tucson around 9:40 a.m. — 8 hours late. Tired and groggy, with only a vague conception of time. Fortified myself for the busy afternoon ahead with a long-missed strawberry/lemon Eegee slushie (a Tucson original).